The Faded Light
by Tend to Infinity
Summary: A desperate, lonely, Tommy Pickles writes a series of letters to find meaning in his life, since he was left alone.
1. Letter 1

The Faded Light

The First Letter

_The First Letter to Myself _

A dying poet once, to his friend, asked that his grave would eternalise the words:

"Here lies one whose name was writ in water."

And whilst I would not imply that I know better than that poet, the legend that is Keats, I feel that this rule applies to all, and is held very close to our chests:

I am one whose name, within your heart, was writ in water.

For Keats' lines immortalise him, but my name, my awful, awful Pickles name, and the feelings that it once did call have rode away: the waves that held them now spread off towards eternity.

It has been almost a year since you left: a year that has seen me cycle through the various stages of grief and life. I have ridden those waves of your amnesia, I have cheered at your departure, I have proved myself upon other women… and I have cried, and sat, and cried, and lain in my bed, in its loving comfort.

Kimi, your name is a scream that lasts with every letter; a call that beckons your return to my soul; a lie that haunts me in my sleep; an image that grows clearer as it fades. I have sat and shouted, called you up to find your number has been disconnected, I have pained to find your mind behind another front. But, I haven't. Perhaps, in a stranger's eyes, I see you for a second… but then you leave again.

I try to "move on", I try to look into the sky and find another course: I look up, now as I write this, and the window in front of me remains open and causes the pages to growl at me. I see the northern star, and perhaps my route could be defined under its rays. But that same point will flit about the sky as the days draw on.

I will reach a point where I only think of you a single time a day. You are just a flashing ache, barely a pang, that I shake off and move on. Those days are lighter in their light. But, the time will come when the dreams return. You will be there, as you always were: a stranger in the scenes, perhaps. That is how it starts.

But then you come back. Not just a flirtatious, cheeky glance from another girl, but the object of my thoughts. You sometimes shun me: you tell me that you have moved on, and hug and kiss and touch the man who now makes your heart and eyes sing… But, sometimes it is worse. Sometimes my dreams show me that look that you once had, that touch that you once gave…

It was your eyes, Kimi. They were so expressive. So deep, so light… so heavy! There was a fire in those orbs, and for a short while it burned so hotly I could stare at it all day: it thrilled me, yet it calmed me. I saw love in them. Love! Love! A word I wish that I could wear out with overuse. I will say it enough: it will lose its meaning!

Love.

Love!

Love!

I still love you…

Even now, my lip quivers to catch a tear. I should have become a drought by now, but still the rains come. I am sodden…

But, I saw something that I could never wish on my worst enemy: I saw the Sun go out.

The Sun could never be forgotten by any that had seen it. Should it go out, and the night be thrown upon us, and should we survive the cold, we would look to the east and see it still. We would look to the east and wish that it would rise again and warm us. We would never forget the brightness of its orb. We would never… because it was our life.

But it would merely be another "was".

I saw those eyes, once burning for me, fade and cool. I looked into your eyes and saw nothing. No more of that love that thrilled, no more of that love that comforted. I saw nothing at all. A pair of black eyes that looked at me as if I were another random wanderer that we chat with; another wanderer with whom we speak to fill the silence for the short while, before we reach that eternal one. I was just another child.

How could that happen?

How could the fuel run out?

I wish I could say that I blame myself, or you. But I blame neither. The question doesn't resonate with me, so I cannot even hope to answer it. I cannot begin to understand the question!

Perhaps it is a fire. No fire can burn forever. No star can shine forever. Perhaps the sun really has gone out.

Then why does mine remain?

The warmth of her sad, intense, beautiful eyes gave me power. She fuelled me with that warmth… Perhaps my eyes did not show her the same. Perhaps I could not lend her heat.

Or did she burn so bright my meagre feelings burned away so quickly? She was intense. So intense…

And your body… Some part of me wishes to be "romantic"… But what is romance without lust? It is a strange fact: Lust can fall over you without Romance, but never can Romance fall upon you without its saucy brother. Lust is a misanthrope, I think…

I ramble and diverge. Perhaps that was another reason… I wanted to tell you so badly how amazing you were. I tried at every chance I had: you looked so beautiful in the morning, with eyes that you would rub to redness to escape the lull of sleep. Eyes that you would rub to redness to be with me. You would wake up on my shoulder, to find me staring with my stupid smile on my face, rub your eyes, then snuggle tighter.

"I want to be awake and asleep with you."

She wasn't the best with words, perhaps, but she could say things better than I ever could. That statement proves it. I smile… even now.

I hated going to sleep, too. I hated lying in bed knowing that I would have to wait so long to see you again. You were beautiful in your sleep, but incomplete. At risk of sounding ridiculous to my future self, reading this, when you slept you were a single motif. Wachet Auf's first "line".

But when you woke…

You became a symphony.

I can't any more.

This is too much for me to bear for the moment. Already there's a tear drop on this paper. I am being indulgent.

This is so short. Furious again. Fire seems to be a theme.

There will be more. So don't give up.

You will be well again.

You will.

Best and Kindest Regards,

Tommy Pickles


	2. Letter 2

The Second Letter

I still remember it, you know. In fact, I remember it more than the things we used to do.

It was so beautifully green, and the shine of that sun put a light in both the sky and earth beneath.

The forest we had walked about together was standing tall: its trees, soldiers, remained unmoved as they were back then, with faces refusing to break into emotion.

My little poetry book was pressed against my nose, as I hunched over on the smallest of benches, that my back must have ached, but I don't remember feeling it. The words, Keats again, absolutely worthless: scribbled in yet another language I could not understand, and therefore couldn't replicate…

Kimi.

I wanted you to walk through the footpath, the ranks of soldiers parting for your entrance, and see my reading. See that I was fine, and hope a pang of jealousy remind you of the passion that we had. Or, that you'd see me and realise I was stronger than that: that nothing you could say could break me.

"_You think I'll weep: but this heart_

_Will break into a hundred thousand flaws_

_Or else I'll weep. Oh fool, I will go mad_!"

I wanted to become absorbed and not cry; anything, but that. And yet… I think I did. I wanted you to know exactly how much I loved you. That, despite my jealousy and fear and envy… There is no justification, and no excuse, but I couldn't help it. My passions are joined at the hip, and they're painful.

Then you appeared. I saw your black hair gently rise with your walking. I wanted you to be hideous; how revolting of me! I wanted the light to be gone: that I'd suddenly be wrong about you. That those eyes housed no soul, and once the bricks began to moss I'd see you for what you were. But you were not. You aren't. Never will be. And I know…

I cannot keep a thought straight: too much heat and the railways are twisting and breaking apart. Metal expanding under the sun, and now above the ground. Seized by seizure, in this world.

You appeared, and said little. I saw you, and my eyes blurred. The light of the sun and earth spread up and down into lines, and there was only you in focus. But I held it all. Held it all in.

You. "I have your things."

"Thank you. I brought yours too."

You. "How are you feeling?"

Looked down at the box I had brought. Smiled, and laughed a short and hoarse laugh that tore the flesh from my throat. "I've been better."

She hummed. I looked into her eyes and saw affection and love. That made it worse. Or so I thought… To know love is lost, when someone loves you so. But… No.

"I brought the picture."

The picture. God, Kimi. If you know what happened to it… No, you'd think me a child.

You. "No." Her adorable voice, caught by sadness. I could hear it in her throat and chest. I could hear her heart beat, both squashed together on one chair, and yet forcing herself that we would not touch.

"I can't… Kimi. I can't have it in the house. Don't want."

I sounded like a child.

I wish I could forget. Perhaps, my future self, the words have lost their meaning. I hope so. I hear them often, and they still ache. A rotten tooth.

You. "Okay then."

I stared at it. I saw us, your face pressed against mine. I looked irritated, but it was false. A "selfie" with a disposable camera: you loved your style, you indie queen.

I continued to stare.

"Can… Can I keep it, please?"

That pushed it over the edge. Those words, and the tears came out. There was a long pause, which could have been only a second, but my mind draws blank on that.

You. "Of course."

I couldn't look at her. She gave me games back, and a jumper than she had borrowed. That's when I knew it was over. That blue sweater, that she liked and suited her (it was far too big, but that was the style she liked to project)… She handed it back to me, and I knew that it was serious. I knew that I could hide this under a mask any longer. She wanted to be away from me.

No… That's not right. She wanted to be with me; she needed not to be.

Am I projecting? Was she lying…?

"Even that…?"

She only nodded.

I couldn't stop myself, so I reached over and hugged her. There was a pause, and she returned it. I pressed my face against the top of her head and felt her hair against my face, remembering again. I squeezed harder, and she returned, and I thought…

Then she pulled away.

You. "That was a sad hug."

I laughed, and with it felt a few tears break forth again. Those laughs that come through the most base of pain: our body knows we're suffering terribly, and that blackness makes a flicker the greatest light. She laughed as well, in the same way.

Another pause.

"Kimi… do you need to? Is there anything I could do?"

She paused.

Her eyes again. Fiercely emotional and deep. Shining, too. Shining.

You. "You know I can't."

"But… I love you. I do… I will…"

She did not return this. The first time I recall her not. And it froze me.

She stood. "I need to go."

_Please, Cordelia…. Stay a little. Stay a little._

"Not yet."

You. "I have to."

"Please, Kimi."

You. "I'm really sorry."

I shook my head.

_Thou'lt come no more. Never, Never, Never! _

"I don't know what to do."

You. "Bye, Tommy. Please, please be happy."

I looked up this time, and saw her eyes shimmering again. Three suns now hang about my reality. Can't look anywhere without being blinded. The ground, the sky, the air: turned against me.

"Bye Kimi. I love you."

I kept saying it, making myself a child: I just wanted to hear that sound again, from her soft voice. I wanted to hear her voice crack as she heard it, and she realised.

So young… I was so young.

"Please be happy."

She turned, and I saw her hair flick around, and the back of her head fade as she walked away.

"Look back."

"Look back."

"Look back."

… "please."

She didn't. She disappeared into the forest. Just like that. In the space of what must have only been five minutes, she disappeared into the world. Never to message me again.

Silly things. Never to wake up to a message reading: "Good morning, gorgeous." Never to smile at me, with her eyes not shimmering or shining, but filled with a warm glow. There was none of that, ever again.

And those trees remained unmoved, as they always did.

Worn myself out again.

Best and Kindest Regards,

Tommy Pickles


	3. Letter 3

Dear Tommy (Added Later. My poor mind.)

I cant even do it any more and its got worse than before writing out the way I feel is even becoming tiresome like tearing scabs and feeling the beat if my head wont stop whirring I wont rall against it Ill run with it so no more pauses that befuddle the spinning mind I will resonate with it the only way I can deal with it now is to focus on nothing thinking of nothing and concentrating that the fucking milk has gone off and won't come back again all the time where it wanders so I have never believed in time travel whether I am wrong or not I don't care never finding me caring about that now nor anything for the matter other than whether the wine has more calories fancy of all the shit to worry how it resonates and ebbs and rows like a speaker from younger where she screamed at me her fucking eyes and face her fucking eyes can't even replace them for the colour that they were changing like the sky sthats what the bible speaksof with the flames and whores or whooooers that will come and rule or be dismounted the mounted mountain will be dismounted God I'm getting fat now my cheeks go past my ears when I catch myself smiling at the glub or my own thoughts

if I were caught with all this youd be so mad so mad at me for keeping it to remind me at your scum ways but youre the one being mounted now while my cheeks cover my ears my eyes are getting wider and the crease fuck it so obese vile and disgusting wretch with not enough time to clean myself no going back no going going back no no going back to when the smiles when I got a message in the morning you fucking forward it now no doubt you whooer I cant stand it any more

I will do it if you push me

which are doing you're fucking pushing me I can feel it and my shoulder blades push and scratch the skin from inside and splits the veins my skin sandypaper now ripping through the tight shirts ripping through the tight shirts my chest and fucking heart why must it go on forever there forever in a second and second in forever I like that but not it fuck it and you I must just concentrate again until it passes again now I've seen a lot more than I will again and felt everything everything that can be said thought everything I can think with my own words I have thought all I can think now that the beach days have gone bile everywhere and waves of it I dread to think of the foam we stood in it and washed our feet and I hated the sand caught on my foot the one grain above the ankle bone waiting and wouldn't be washed off no matter how long I wait went up to my navel faced forwards completely then and higher up higher and higher and higher

how much I loved you and how cold warm water can be all the looks that turn theirs away when I walk work and Nigel growling at me working harder on the til while you work on your biology

HA

work on your

HA

biology

HA

carving it into this paper managed to rip it

ah well I can grab another sheet if I feel like it its about the only thing I can grab at this point my fingers are so cold I cant even cold them to scribble on the paper my words make me look madder than I am no Im not mad perhaps I am but I am getting on I am always getting on

I AM ALWAYS GETTING ON WITH IT

paper has gone again

God ah well.

Tommy


End file.
